The Greater Good
by beaute-ephemere
Summary: Hermione sees right through Dumbledore's schemes and decides it's up to her to save her best friend, Harry. She'll do anything. Anything at all. Time Travel AU / Written for The Houses Competition Round 3 Year 2


**A/N : Disclaimer! This story contains implied sexual relations, a swear word or two, and Hermione straightening her hair. I know that that last one is pretty controversial, and I apologise. Also, I know that Snape, Yaxley and Malfoy weren't all in the same year in school, but this is slightly AU so we can pretend they are. Please?**

House : Slytherin

Category : Themed

Prompt : There was always something not quite right about the door.

Word Count : 3701

.oOo.

There was always something not quite right about the door. Dumbledore had always insisted it existed, but Hermione wasn't altogether certain. Now that she was trying - actually trying - to push it open and leave, it seemed to have jammed. So she was stuck: stuck inside Dumbledore's master plan with seemingly no way out. Sure, she could jump out the window or hang herself from the various light-fixtures along the wall, but then she'd die, and she would prefer to avoid such a messy fate. There _had_ to be an exit from Dumbledore's schemes. There had to be a door, somewhere.

Perhaps she shouldn't have let herself be locked in. The thing is, she hadn't realised at the time. She couldn't see the walls as they went up around her, sealing her fate; now, however, they loomed over her, boxing her in. Seated atop his golden throne of virtues, Dumbledore played a fickle game. It was like chess, with her as a simple pawn amongst hundreds of others. Harry had been the most important piece, but Hermione always knew he was still only another piece on Dumbledore's board, strung along like a puppet, and her suspicions were only confirmed when Harry's death was orchestrated as part of the great wizard's plan. "It was for the greater good," he said.

Hermione Granger had decided she wouldn't stand for such flagrant manipulation. However, she also knew she was walking a delicate line. She couldn't rock the boat too much, or she'd get thrown out, left to drown in the tumultuous waves of war. So she proceeded carefully, treading lightly around Dumbledore, making sure he never suspected her true feelings.

One day, Hermione went to Dumbledore's office. She didn't really have a plan, merely wishing to assess the terrain and see what she was working with. She enquired if he might have a moment to speak with her. He replied cheerfully that he always had time for the brightest witch of their age and let her in, something dangerous sparkling just under the surface of his piercing blue eyes.

"Please, have a seat, Ms. Granger," he greeted. "Fizzing Whizbee?"

"No, thank you," Hermione replied, unsure how to begin. Suddenly, she saw a familiar object glistening on Dumbledore's desk, and an idea struck her. "I've been thinking, Professor Dumbledore."

"It does one a great deal of good to think from time to time."

She picked up the object from Dumbledore's desk - it was a time turner. "I was wondering… Why don't we use these? Surely we could just kill Riddle before he became immortal."

"My dear Miss Granger, such drastic action could have immense unforeseen consequences. One cannot play with the fabric of time itself - it is very prone to tears."

"But-"

"We have no way of knowing what could happen if we went back so far in time."

"Surely it couldn't be worse than-"

"It can _always_ be worse. Besides, most time turners cannot go back further than a handful of hours."

Hermione was not to be deterred. "But you own a unique time turner, Professor. One that can allow you to go back over one hundred years."

"Indeed. But I would not dare use it for such purposes."

"With all due respect, I would like to try - "

"Having met Tom Riddle, I doubt you could stop him. He was an _extremely_ charming young man, and I am almost certain he could persuade anyone to do his bidding if he tried hard enough."

Deep down, Hermione agreed with Dumbledore. She knew she couldn't try and kill Tom Riddle : too many things had the potential to go wrong, and Hermione was never one for huge risks. She was certain Dumbledore sensed her change of heart, too, for he made a surprising offer : "Miss Granger, we are all free to do what we want. As such, I leave you with my time turner until tomorrow morning. I trust you to make the right decisions."

Nodding numbly, realising she had been outplayed once again, Hermione turned around and left, crossing paths with Severus Snape on her way out. She was overcome with burning curiosity : she had always felt Snape was the only other one who didn't lap up Dumbledore's lies, the only other one who didn't blindly follow the wizard, putting absolute faith in his own judgement. Hermione couldn't resist the temptation, and once Snape had safely entered Dumbledore's office, she pulled out an Extendable Ear from the pocket of her robes, tacking it to the side of the door and slipping into the shadows. The voices inside were crystal clear.

"I see Miss Granger was in here mere moments before I arrived. Would you care to enlighten me on her motives?" Snape drawled.

"They do not concern you," Dumbledore said calmly.

"I assume it didn't go as you might've wanted? We all know you'd be quietly showing off otherwise."

"Severus..."

"I tried to warn you she wouldn't roll over like the others, she isn't as fool as you seem to think. She-"

"-reminds me of Lily, in fact."

Hermione could almost see Snape's mouth flying shut, jaw tightening and fists clenching. "Don't. You. Dare."

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore enquired innocently.

"Don't you dare talk about her, not as if you have any idea who she was. You have no right, you foul-"

"Now, now, there's no need to agitate yourself. And you must remember, I knew Lily Potter as well."

"No, you didn't. I sold you my soul to save her, and you - "

"Exacerbation does not become you."

"I came to you, at my very lowest, and pleaded with you to save the only woman I had ever cared for. You demanded something in return. I would have given you anything, and you took everything."

"I needed proof of your devotion. After all, it was you who told your master of the prophecy."

"You needed nothing. She was a member of _your_ Order, and I warned you of a threat to her safety. I may have had poor judgement in putting her life in danger, but you should have acted immediately."

"Nothing is black or wh-"

"I loved her, Albus. You knew that. You used it against me, a tool to crush my heart and rip me apart."

"Calm yourself, Severus. A mere school-boy crush… there is no need to exaggerate."

The room was silent for a few moments before Dumbledore spoke, shock apparent in his voice. "After all this time?"

Snape's voice was devoid of emotion as he replied. "Always."

Hermione heard footsteps on the stone floor and knew she had to leave or risk getting caught. She dragged herself back to her room and collapsed onto her bed, feeling emotionally drained as she slowly realised the implications of what she had heard. It all made sense, in a way. It was Snape who had told Voldemort of the prophecy, and yet he had tried to save Lily… But Dumbledore, it seemed, had only cared about gaining a valuable spy. And so the web of deceit is woven. Suddenly, she had an idea. It was a stretch, but perhaps she could save Harry without risking being murdered by a young Tom Riddle.

She knew it might not work, but she clung to her idea, praying for salvation as she pulled the Time-Turner from her robes.

.oOo.

After steadying herself - travelling back multiple decades made the world spin a little, she looked around. Squinting in the darkness, she gripped her wand in her hand, and with a whispered _Lumos_ , there was light all around her. She suddenly realised where she was : the second floor girl's lavatory, more commonly known as Moaning Myrtle's Bathroom. She extinguished her light and quickly snuck out; she didn't want the awful ghost telling tall tales of how a girl from the future appeared in her bathroom.

Once she was safely out, Hermione decided to cast a Disillusionment Charm on herself and sneak down to the Entrance Hall. When she arrived, the calendar clock on the East Wall told her the first step of her plan had worked : the date was the 16th of May, 1976.

Now, for the next step. Her instincts told her to stay as far away from the meddling fool as possible, but reason countered it would be less suspicious if she went to Dumbledore immediately. However, she also needed a cover story… she could think of one, but it would need a little work…

Mere moments later, she was hurrying to the nearest lavatory. Locking the door behind her, she looked herself up and down in the mirror. The first thing that had to go was her frizzy curls. She took a bobby pin from her pocket and transfigured it into a straightening iron. As she straightened her hair, casting charms to make it stay smooth, sleek and shiny, she was suddenly glad Lavender had insisted on giving her that manicure a few days prior. With that, Hermione straightened her skirt and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked different, but something still wasn't quite right; Hermione turned her red tie green and replaced her good-natured smile with a disdainful sneer and she was done.

Outside in the corridor, she paused, pondering her next move. In the end, she settled on going to see Slughorn : he would surely take her to Dumbledore, and it would be easier for her to face the formidable Headmaster if she was not alone.

Her feet took her down to the office that Professor Snape had occupied in his time, assuming that the current Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin would be using the same rooms. Professor Slughorn was just as she remembered him, so consumed with fame and prestige that a few well placed compliments and a plea for his help quickly had him escorting her up to see the Headmaster. It was almost embarrassingly easy to gain his assistance. Maybe she really should have been sorted into Slytherin.

Dumbledore peered down at her over his spectacles. "Good evening, Miss - ?"

She hesitated for a moment. "Hermione Yaxel, I believe."

"You _believe?_ "

She tried to seem embarrassed. "It's just - everything's so fuzzy, Sir. I can barely even remember my own name." She hadn't even finished her sentence when she felt gentle pressure on my Occlumency barriers. In response, she let cracks appear in my barriers, showing fragments of memories weaved together to make new ones so as to backup her baseless lies. It was a sleight of mind she had learned in sixth year and it had always served her well - today was no exception.

Dumbledore smiled. "I believe you mean Yaxley. One of your ancestors is at the school this very moment. Judging from your tie, you must've been Slytherin in your time. Perhaps we can get him to show you around the dungeons, as he is too."

"That would be wonderful, Sir," she simpered, slightly confused at how easily Dumbledore had accepted her story. _So confident in his own greatness he doesn't even think people might try to trick him, yet alone succeed,_ Hermione thought. _Well, they do say pride comes before a fall._

It isn't very long before Yaxley appears at the door, looking profoundly disgruntled at being awoken in the middle of the night. "Why am I here?"

"This dashing young lady has been accidentally sent back in time. She seems to be a descendant of yours, and I thought she would feel most comfortable with family," Dumbledore said calmly. Hermione's ears rang with the last word. _Family._ It sounded so very wrong, laced with lies and poison, and she wanted to tell the world of her deceit.

Instead, she bit her tongue and smiled at Yaxley, who wrapped his arm around her. "Yes, sir. She'll be in good hands, don't you worry."

Upon that note, the pair were ushered out of the room. The second the door closed behind them, Yaxley breathed a sigh of relief. "Sodding old fool," he muttered. "My name's Corban, by the way."

Hermione smiled. "Pleasure. I'm Hermione." The pair walked down the stairs without saying a word. She was the one to break the silence. "Do you mind if we - uh - keep this whole thing secret? People would want to know every little detail, and I don't think I could stand it. Perhaps we could simply pose as cousins? For simplicity's sake."

Yaxl - _Corban_ grinned. "I've always wanted a cousin my own age. I don't know about the future, but social events in my time are awfully boring."

Hermione laughed, ignoring the small part of her that revelled in the power of manipulation. Suddenly, she realised someone had been waiting for them in the corridor. Someone she _knew._

Lucius Malfoy.

"What took you so lo-?" he began to drawl, stopping dead upon seeing Hermione. "Good evening, Miss -?" he said, quickly regaining his composure.

"Yaxley," Hermione replied, smiling pleasantly as the words burned like venom upon her tongue.

Lucius' gaze shot to his friend, then back to Hermione. "Are you …?"

"Married? Heavens no. She's my cousin," Corban said.

"Not always mutually exclusive," Lucius grumbled.

Hermione contorted her face into a disdainful sneer. "Forgive me, but I've never had a penchant for incest."

"Better your cousins than a Mudblood," he sneered back.

"If you are loathsome enough to not have a single offer of marriage other than your own family, you deserve nothing more," she retorted, surprised at her own poisonous words.

Corban laughed, looping his arm through hers. "We're going to get along famously, you and I."

"I'm sure we will," Hermione smiled. _I'm rewriting History,_ she thought to herself, _this is bigger than me and my stupid pride. This is more important than honesty._

.oOo.

It was a few weeks before Hermione even talked to Snape. Truth was, she didn't particularly want to approach the slimy Slytherin. If she had allowed herself the faintest sliver of hope that the Potions Master - _future_ Potions Master, she corrected herself - was slightly better looking in his youth, all her hopes were crushed by now. He had the same disgustingly greasy hair, sallow skin and hooked nose that , when combined, made the awful boy somewhat resemble a vulture. If anything, he was slightly skinnier and paler than he was in her day, and in the shadows, he could've been mistaken for a sullen corpse.

As for her "cousin", she liked him, even though she was loath to admit. Thanks to him, she was quickly accepted as pureblood royalty within her new House, and there was also the small matter of how the boy who had try to grope her in Charms had mysteriously sprouted antlers the next day.

One night, whilst hanging out in the Common Room, Hermione noticed Lucius Malfoy had cornered Severus Snape by the fireplace. Discreetly moving closer under the pretense she was cold, Hermione managed to catch snippets of conversation : from what she could gather, Severus had yet to take the Mark, and Lucius seemed rather displeased about it. Hermione gulped; she didn't have much time before even her, with all her books and clever plans, could no longer keep Snape out of the War.

.oOo.

It was a beautiful clear day after exams. Hermione hadn't had to take them, but nevertheless she enjoyed the freedom. Sitting in the shade of an old tree, reading the rather questionable book Corban had given her, and also keeping one eye on the Marauders, who seemed to be taking a particular _interest_ in what seemed to be their favorite hobby : picking on Severus Snape.

Hermione watched, her disinterested, if not slightly bored, mask never slipping. What she really wanted to do was to run forwards and intervene… but she barely knew Snape, and her noble act of chivalry could compromise the perfect image she had carefully cultivated of herself. She may have come back to help Severus escape Dumbledore's web, but she too had to survive until graduation.

And so she watched James Potter hoist Severus up with his own spell, watched Lily intervene, and watched Severus get up from the ground, cold fury simmering under his eyes. Lily tried to calm him, but it was to no avail; then James, his mouth twisted in a malicious smirk, said, "You're lucky Evans was here, Snivellus."

That did it. Severus straightened up, his back ramrod straight, and took a step away from Lily. "I don't need help from a filthy Mudblood like _her_ ," he hissed. The second the words tumbled out of his mouth, he seemed to wish they never had. Hermione could see the regret in his eyes.

But it was too late. Lily had stormed off without a backwards glance, the Marauders following her, and Hermione saw her own opportunity.

She stood up and began to walk back towards the castle, stopping for a moment as she passed her Housemate. "Why you let those imbeciles trample all over you, I'll never understand," she commented coolly. "I've seen you in Defence, Snape. You can handle yourself."

"There are four of th-" he began.

"Don't give me that crap. I'll ask you again, since you didn't seem to hear me the first time around. Why do you let those idiots hex you? You should fight back, and if you're too weak for that, maybe the boys will help."

"No," Severus said, glaring at Hermione. "Not yet," he added quietly.

Hermione smiled, baring far too many of her teeth for it to be reassuring. "Time is ticking, Snape. Keep an eye on the clock."

"I don't need them to defend myself!" he snapped.

"Agree to disagree, then. My point remains. Tick, tock, Severus," she said, turning back towards the castle before he could respond.

A week later, Slughorn asked his seventh-year Slytherin students to pair up for a final research project. "Exams may be over, but this will count for next semester," the man had said, waddling through the classroom, a pleased smile on his face. Without a word, Hermione slid into the seat next to Snape, who raised an eyebrow.

"I work alone, Yaxley."

"Slughorn said to _pair_ up, dunderhead. That means working with someone else."

"Go work with Parkinson or Black, then."

Hermione laughed, but her eyes narrowed. "We both know we're the best potioneers in this room, and unless you are _trying_ to get anything less than an O on your assignment, you'll work with me."

Narrowing his own eyes, Severus sighed. "I'll go get the ingredients."

Meanwhile, Corban had noticed his cousin's particular choice of partner, and he made his way over to their table. "What are you playing at, 'Mione?" he asked.

She gave him a calculating look. "You want him as part of your little club, don't you?"

"We do… but not _that_ much, darling! If he doesn't join, then that's just how it is. It's not up to y-"

"You have seen him cast, right? You want that powerful an ally, trust me. I'm not a little girl, I can handle it," Hermione said, and that was that.

After that, things went somewhat more smoothly. Severus seemed to accept that Hermione wasn't going anywhere, and Hermione was pleased ; everything was going exactly to plan. Well, everything except for the fact she now had approximately no ideas as to what her plan was. Her initial idea had been to make Snape fall in love, convince him not to join the Death Eaters, and somehow stop him from hearing that godforsaken prophecy and running off to tell Dumbledore, sealing both his and Harry's fates. However, she hadn't really thought that through, and now she was stuck in the complicated antics of being a pureblood princess, member of the Noble House of Yaxley. The main problem with that being, aside from the fact she had to keep lyin- _repeating_ to herself she most definitely _wasn't_ enjoying it, that it would hardly fit with her image to try and dissuade Severus from joining Voldemort's ranks.

 _Besides,_ Hermione thought, _go big or go home, right? The latter is hardly an option anymore, so I'll have to choose the former : why just save Harry when I can save the world?_

Her second plan was complicated and weaved with in a fabric of lies and what ifs, but she thought it just might work. She hoped so. She really really hoped so.

.oOo.

Months later, she stood on a balcony at the Yaxley Manor, a glowing cigarette in her left hand and wearing only Severus's shirt as the man in question lay sprawled out on the bed behind her.

"Where have you been all my life?" the man mumbled.

"Right under your nose," she responded quietly, and she thought it was the closest thing to the truth she's said in a while.

She took a long drag on her cigarette.

.oOo.

A little over a year later, she was personally congratulated by the Dark Lord. "Well done on convincing Severus to be Marked," he hissed. "I'm sure he'll prove a valuable asset. I'll see to it that you're adequately rewarded."

"Thank you, my Lord," she answered, and she wondered if all great wizards were this easy to manipulate.

.oOo.

She was almost disappointed at how easy it was to kill the darkest wizard of all time. Chuck five trinkets in some Fiendfyre, get your slimy boyfr - _husband_ to kill a snake, stab Tom Riddle with a poisoned dagger in his sleep, and that was the end of it.

She wondered why no one thought to do it before.

She thought of all the men she'd killed.

 _It was for the greater good_ , she told herself, but she doesn't wonder again.

.oOo.

When she was "elected" youngest Minister for Magic of all time, Dumbledore personally congratulated her. He sent her a bouquet of flowers. There was a note attached. She read it, then dropped it as if it might burn her.

She supposed it did, if only from the inside. She ran out of the office, slamming the door on her way out. The note lay abandoned on the floor.

" **If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.**

 **I knew I could trust you to make the right decision. ~ A.D."**


End file.
